


The Greatest Comfort

by shelwass



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Community: trope_bingo, F/M, Romance, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelwass/pseuds/shelwass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Telepathy is an integral part of being a Time Lord...but its uses are complicated. (Ten/Rose)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Trope Bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org): Telepathy/Mindmeld. Takes place at an unspecified time in the ["Love of the Stuff of Legends"](http://www.whofic.com/series.php?seriesid=3398) series, at some point after they get married. It started off as one thing, and then kind of got away from me and turned into something else. ;)

There were days when the pain in his eyes was almost unbearable.  
  
She’d catch him looking at her after a particularly harrowing adventure--the kind where not everyone lived--and the agony and fear were barely contained.  
  
He’d bury himself inside her, desperate for relief and, perhaps, a place to hide.  
  
It was a particular kind of love-making; desperate, frantic, and then, at the end, he’d cling to her, still starving for safety.  
  
She’d rub soothing circles over his back, whisper reassurances, and rest her forehead against his, letting his mind dip into hers.  
  
She was like a warm cocoon, he’d told her once. There were so many levels of telepathy--some that she could never hope to reach--but the mere presence of her mind, sheltering his, was enough.  
  
There were days when people would die in his arms, and it eroded his soul. He’d once hidden his sorrow behind a manic facade; now, he poured it into her.  
  
He’d cry, some nights, and she knew it was 900 years of sorrow and regret pouring out. 900 years of hiding, of forcing himself to be strong, of carrying the burden of Time itself. His was the burden of a god, and yet, beneath it all, he was still a man. And, despite being a Time Lord, he was so very human.  
  
He’d stay in her mind, and the outside world would crumble away. They’d made a place, long ago, for him to hide. He’d feel her presence wrap around him, her love easing the ache, and sometimes, exhausted, he’d drift off, unwilling--or maybe unable--to leave.  
  
She’d pepper him with kisses, and he’d snuggle deeper against her, his weight pressing her down into the warm mattress. This body was particularly tactile, and, on nights like that, he needed constant contact.  
  
Still, there were some things he’d never share. Telepathy had many purposes--to probe, to protect, to transfer knowledge and experience--but he guarded his memories carefully, never quite letting her see. It was a burden he didn’t want for her. He loved her too much to ever let it wash over her completely.  
  
She’d asked. More than once, she’d offered to let him give her a glimpse--to let her see the source of his pain. Every time, he’d refused, unwilling to douse her in the riptide of his regrets. And oh, they were many. So much blood on his hands...so much suffering and loss.  
  
So, instead, he’d tell her. Often in bed, always holding her, he’d tell her of the Time War--of the Nightmare Child, of the Skaro Degradations...of watching Time itself curl and contract and rewrite itself, with billions blinking in and out of existence, forced to relive horrors, caught in time loops...  
  
One night, he told her of Rassilon’s plan of ascension--of the near loss of all creation. Of using the Moment to end the war--of being stranded outside the Time Lock as his people burned.  
  
“We were all connected, Rose,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not...not on the surface--welllll, not all the time. Occasionally. But...it was always there. Like a little hum, underneath everything else. Not even thoughts, really--just a presence. And then--all gone. Just me. Alone.”  
  
She kissed his nose. “You’ve got me,” she said, and he’d given her a brilliant grin, tears shining in his deep, brown eyes.  
  
“Oh yes,” he whispered. “And you, Rose Tyler--you are everything.”  
  
“Is it possible?” she asked. “Havin’ me in there with you, like they were?”  
  
He shook his head. “It’s...well, it’s physiological. Species-specific. The Time Lord Intelligentsia--a bit like a hive mind, that. Could join every Time Lord mind as one.” He frowned. “They kicked me out once,” he said. “Severed that link in my brain. Still, though...could always feel them. In the background--like a seventh sense. Didn’t realize how comforting it was until it was gone.”  
  
He reached out, softly caressing her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes reflexively closing.  
  
“Can you imagine, Rose?” he asked softly. “Feeling that presence all your life--knowing that, no matter how far you strayed, you were never alone--not  _really._  And then...” he swallowed. “One great, big explosion. Kaput.”  
  
“It would be like living in a cave,” he continued. “For a human--no physical contact. Not ever. For Time Lords, that psychic link--even at a very low level--it was an integral part of our nature.”  
  
He rested his forehead against hers, nuzzling her, pushing at the outskirts of her mind.  
  
 _This, Rose,_  he whispered inside of her,  _this makes it better. Gotten used to having nothing but the TARDIS in the back of my head--probably wouldn’t have survived without her. And then...then there was you. You, with that great, big, brilliant heart. Even when I’m not here--and I felt it oh, **so**  long before you ever let me in your head--it makes it better. Takes away that loneliness._  
  
She felt his psychic kisses, peppered across her mind and soul. His body stirred against hers, and she felt it faintly, in the distance.  
  
 _Can I...?_  
  
Yeah.  
  
At the edge of her awareness, she felt him enter her--heard herself release a soft sigh. Felt his hands skirt over her body, even as his head remained pressed against hers.  
  
 _‘S this the way Time Lords made love?_  
  
Very rarely, actually. Consciously connecting minds for emotional reasons? Wellllll...not considered the best use of telepathy. Parents would, sometimes, at the beginning--go into their children’s heads; give them comfort and such. Before they were old enough to look into the Untempered Schism. After that...welllll...we were considered too old for it. A bit like breastfeeding in certain Earth cultures, actually. It was a nurturing experience--a bonding experience--but there came a point when it was deemed highly unacceptable. Children, after all, needed to learn to regulate their own thoughts. Disconnect from the womb, as it were.  
  
The Macreans, though--now  **there’s**  a species that used telepathy in daily life. Oh, their family members--constantly in each other’s thoughts--and mating is considered incomplete  **without**  full telepathic contact. They can’t come without it.  
  
Distantly, she heard herself gasp. He eased out of her mind, and the sensation of his body, sliding in and out of hers, returned to the foreground.  
  
“For Time Lords,” he murmured, “We can lose ourselves in there. Lose touch with the outside world...Oh, we feel it, on the periphery--same as you, actually. But it dulls the sensations.”  
  
He kissed her forehead, and she sighed, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. “Brings about great emotional comfort, though,” the Doctor continued. “Can be a brilliant  _part_  of lovemaking...but the climax....wellllll, you miss it if you stay in there too long.”  
  
His long fingers trailed down her body, teasing her just above where they were joined. “And that, Rose Tyler-- _that_  I wouldn’t miss for the world.”


End file.
